Last week Leslie, my amazingly awesome and patient assistant editor, was going over my column when she came across the sentence: "One day you might end up hooking up while drunk." The line was in reference to how alcohol might help you and a good friend of yours have a splendid evening.

Leslie paused and decided to change "hooking up" to "fooling around." I was kind of confused as to why she made the switch until I was reminded that having sex while drunk can count as rape. Faux-feminists are already up in arms about my column-wouldn't want to give them anything else they can misconstrue.

Oh Leslie, you're going to have fun editing this week's edition.

Let's be real here: Alcohol is a necessary social lubricant for most college-aged students, male and female-without it we would be stuck in a perpetual state of sexual frustration.

If you think guys masturbate a lot now, imagine a prohibition-like setting. We would have to cut down a few more oaks to meet the massive demand for tissues.

Alcohol is by no means a direct link to sex, but it allows us to bridge the chasms created by our vulnerabilities. It is the performance-enhancing drug that transforms people from closeted, introverted individuals to outgoing, risk-taking, dance floor-loving folk.

Think about the last time you were relatively sober at a party-one of those "oh I have a midterm coming up so I'm going to take it slow" nights. Who knows-you might catch some babe checking you out, and you focus your oculars right back at her. She saunters by later on in the evening and instead of blurting out something, however stupid it might be, you stay mum.

Same situation, only this time you're throwing back jungle juice. Lovely lady passes by and you blurt out, "I've been killing myself trying to figure out who it is you remind me of and it just came to me. You look exactly like my next girlfriend." (I would never say that; it's actually a suggested pick-up line from "Rock Her World" by Seymore Butts, a self-proclaimed sex guru ... I know.)

Maybe the exchange leads to her calling you a tool, but it could also lead to phone numbers being swapped.

Either way, you've managed to push the thought of rejection to the far recesses of your mind. That empty sensation you feel in your stomach while waiting for a response suddenly doesn't seem as bad.

On the female side, if you're not at least tipsy, you'd probably give the Mutombo finger wag at what is likely to be a lame pick-up attempt. In the event you've been knocking back Goose, you might at least entertain the overture.

Wrap your head around this little factoid: One recent British survey found that 75 percent of women would rather have sex drunk than sober.

The reason? For a lot of women, body image is a huge insecurity. They either can't imagine that a guy would be interested in their looks, or they are intimidated by the thought of being completely naked in front of someone.

But you know what? A few Adios Mofos and those non-existent "excess" pounds that you fret about are completely forgotten.

Given the fact that the majority of date rape happens under the influence of alcohol, drinking as a means to get laid can be a dangerous road to take. Frankly speaking, though, if you want to raise your batting average a little, I suggest shotgunning a few beers before you head out.

Even if you're a sex-positive cardholder, I would hedge my bets that you need alcohol to loosen up a bit. We live in a culture that views open discussions about sex as taboo. It's the reason why I can't help but giggle when my professor mentions that Socrates used to park his engine in the cabooses of his pupils circa pre-KY.

If talking about sex in an academic setting is off-putting, how in the world can two sober acquaintances be expected to breach the subject?

Until the day comes when it's kosher to be candid about sex, the only thing I can advise you to do is drink up, within reason. I'm not saying get to the point where you'll become belligerent or-God forbid-suffer from a bout of whiskey dick, but enough that you can spit out one-liners without your social inhibitions kicking in.

How else could you find the cajones to say, "Hey there pretty lady. Do you date me? No disrespect here, but you make me more stiff than that time Brandi Chastain ripped her jersey off." (OK fine, that's one of mine with a little Bobby Bottleservice mixed in.)

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